Yet
by watchyouwalk
Summary: UPDATED/COMPLETE. A two-part look at what the word 'Yet' really means for Jane and Lisbon. Part two written as an entry for the November Challenge on JF. - Cover image made by tromana
1. Part One

**Title:** Yet****

Rating: T****

Warnings: References to violence and sexual situations****

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist; not by a long shot.****

Summary: "Yet... What does that mean really? Is she purposefully prolonging the inevitable? avoiding the imminent consequences? shutting out that which must eventually come to pass? Or, is she just desperately hoping that it might not come to that after all?"  
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Author's Note: **Originally written as a one-shot in July, newly updated as a two-part story in November. Part one is un-beta'd and such, so keep that in mind.

* * *

It hasn't happened.

Yet...

Ah, but that's just the problem. That simple word, only 3 letters, is so small, but it is that very word that produces the sense of dread niggling in the pit of her stomach.

Yet...

What does that mean really? Is she purposefully prolonging the inevitable? avoiding the imminent consequences? shutting out that which must eventually come to pass? Or, is she just desperately hoping that it might not come to that after all?

Yet...

Maybe there is hope! Maybe, just maybe, she can change his mind; prove to him that there really are consequences for his reckless actions; get it through his thick skull that the world does not, in fact, revolve around him; show him that his decisions affect other people as well, regardless of his self-centered train of thought. Maybe.

Yet...

Despite her consistent efforts to get through to him, snap him into reality if you will, it proves to be a fruitless quest. What was once just a fleeting thought of what might possibly happen is now looming over her constantly, threatening to jump out and squelch the life from her at any second. One false move; one thoughtless comment; one last strike, and it's all over for her. All through no fault of her own.

Yet...

He acts as though nothing is wrong, continuing to use her merely as a means to an end. He pays little attention, if any at all, to her pleas. She has never been one to beg, but this is important, so she finds herself almost on her knees, pleading with him to just think for once. He brushes off her concerns, assuring her that she has nothing to worry about, but she knows better. Still, she finds herself hoping, praying, that he'll be right, just like he always is.

Yet...

She feels a significant piece of her carefully-erected defenses crumbling as she turns in her gun and badge for the last time. She was not surprised when he let her down that first time. The suspension had been expected, if not anticipated. But this is the second time, and fate has dealt her a more permanent hand. He once again tries to defend her, insisting it wasn't her fault. He even apologizes, multiple times, but she is more than doubtful that he really means it. He has tugged on her heart strings many times over the past few years, sometimes none too gently, and the prospect of never seeing him again leaves her with an unwanted pain.

Yet...

It seems as though that is simply not meant to be, although she sincerely wishes the circumstances of their meeting were different. Less than a month has passed since she saw him last, and he stands on her door step, blood splattered on his clothes and caked into his hair. The blood is not his own, of that much she is certain, and her stomach drops. There is only one man whose blood he could have shed. She ushers him in quickly and quietly, and the rest of her poorly held up defenses shatter as she helps him to the shower; finds him some fresh clothing to wear; burns the condemning apparel in her fireplace; boils him a cup of tea, preparing it just the way she knows he likes it. All the while, not a single tear slips past the facade she must maintain, though she's drowning in guilt and failure on the inside. He has done the unthinkable, committing murder in cold blood and revenge, letting her down for the third time in so many months. But she shoulders some of the blame herself, for once feeling incompetent and incapable at having not turned him around before it was too late. Despite all previous intents of being sure to arrest him if he ever went too far, she is no longer an officer of the law and circumstances have changed all too quickly. Instead, she lets him hold her through the night; stroking her hair gently as his tears fall; whispering apologies in her ear as he tries to ease the burden that seems to only have doubled upon exacting his revenge; brushing his lips to her skin tenderly, raising goosebumps on her arms; kissing her intensely and passionately as he becomes desperate to feel something, anything, besides the encompassing guilt that refuses to leave him alone. She eagerly reciprocates his actions, and they pour out all of their tangled emotions into a tangling of bodies. They come together again and again until there is simply nothing left to feel, and she is certain no emotion could ever be more painful.

Yet...

She finds that this time, the pain never goes away.


	2. Part Two

**Title:** Yet

**Rating:** T

**Warnings:** Violence and subtle sexual situations

**Disclaimer:** I definitely do not own The Mentalist. I'm quite satisfied with the job Bruno Heller is doing this season, so I wouldn't want to anyway.

**Summary:** "Yet... if he is truly concerned, why doesn't he just tell her? explain away her fears? soothe her worries out of existence with his words? ease her battered conscience and relieve his own?"

**Author's Note:** So... remember how I said this was going to be a one-shot back in July? Well, apparently I was wrong. My bad. This stray plot bunny just sort of attacked me out of the blue last week, and thus we have part two of yet! It's more or less the same story as part one, but from Jane's POV. Also written as an entry for the Jello-Forever November Challenge. Thanks to the awezing **iloveplotbunnies** for the wonderful beta job, and to **allanon9**, **dwennie**, and **Jisbon4ever** for reviewing part one!

She doesn't understand why.

Yet...

But that's her problem. That simple word haunts his thoughts, taunting him with the very real possibility that it may never come to fruition. That she may _never_ understand, and he can't blame her. After all, what does he ever do but cause her more trouble?

Yet...

If he is truly concerned, why doesn't he just tell her? Explain away her fears? Soothe her worries out of existence with his words? Ease her battered conscience, and relieve his own?

Yet...

He knows he never will. He's not sure he can even explain his own reckless actions to himself, let alone to her. He knows she deserves to be treated better. He can see the hurt in her eyes as he continues to let her down, and it's slowly killing him on the inside.

Yet...

He can't seem to stop; the lies, the deception—they come naturally, the perfect cover for the pain he really feels. He's been warned that her job, her future, her whole life, is at stake due to his actions, a suspension no longer the largest of her concerns. She comes to him on more than one occasion, pleading with him to proceed cautiously and listen to reason. The pain in her eyes only serves as a reminder of his own strife, and he sees that often enough in the form of a crimson smile on his bedroom wall. He refuses to break, easily slipping on an emotional mask with a charming smile and assurances that everything will work out, brushing aside her worries as empty threats to be disregarded.

Yet...

For once, it appears as though he was wrong. It is entirely his fault that she has lost her beloved and hard-earned position with the bureau, and he can see that she doesn't believe his heartfelt apologies. He has let her down once again, adding just another brick to the wall around her heart. He can feel his own defenses beginning to crumble as she exits the building for the last time, offering him a blameless goodbye as a silent tear marks its path along her cheek.

Yet...

He doesn't run after her. He simply stands there, completely dumbfounded. He had been so sure that he was right, apparently thinking himself above the human tendency to err. He's even deceived himself this time around. No amount of defending her or insisting on her innocence could sway the final decision, and now she's gone. He might never see her again; he doesn't _deserve_ to see her again, not after the way he treated her.

Yet…

He had only ever desired to keep her safe, and that included keeping her safe from himself—not that his motives were entirely selfless. No, he certainly had kept himself in mind as well. As long as he continued to keep her at arm's length, he could pretend that he was perfectly fine, shoving the pain inside while fighting off the demons by helping to put others' to rest.

Yet...

He had never stopped to consider that she had some of her own demons to face. He wrestles with his thoughts over the next month, closing himself off from the rest of the team and barely even acknowledging the existence of the new boss. No one can replace his Lisbon, so why bother? He's still there to close cases, but it's not the same without her; no witty banter to look forward to and no adorable pout to try to coax out of hiding. Sometimes, he wonders why he shows up to work at all.

Yet...

He quickly remembers why he was there in the first place, when the unthinkable happens: Red John makes a mistake, and he is lucky enough to be the only one to notice; the break he's been waiting for, _dreaming_ of for the past decade is finally right in front of his face, and he wastes no time in seizing the opportunity. He finds it delightfully easy to trick Van Pelt into digging up some information for him, and revenge is so close that he can almost taste it.

Yet...

It takes another week before he's able to slip away completely unnoticed, and his body hums with adrenaline and anticipation as he nears his destination. It's obvious from the look of surprise on Red John's face that this visit was wholly unexpected, but the serial killer only smiles when he feels the silver blade pressed against his neck. Jane relishes this moment, and he draws it out as long as possible, slowly gliding the blade across Red John's throat before his emotions catch up with him; all of the anger and hurt he's held back over the years are unleashed as he slashes haphazardly at the cackling man in front of him, slicing skin and marring flesh until all that is left is an undistinguishable heap of flesh and blood. He stands there; clothes splattered with crimson, hair sticky with blood, every breath labored and sporadic. He waits expectantly to feel the sense of fulfillment he so deeply craves.

Yet...

It never comes. He feels desolate, guilty, and disgusted. Relief in revenge was a lie all along. He barely registers his own movements as the knife clatters to the floor. His feet move toward the door and on to his car of their own accord; he drives and drives and drives, unsure of where exactly he is going or if he's even going anywhere at all.

Yet...

He ends up outside of Lisbon's apartment; walks to her door, knocks and then, waits. If she's surprised to see him like this, she doesn't show it. She doesn't utter a single sound as she ushers him into her shower. He lets the scalding water run over him, willing it to wash away more than just the blood caked on his skin. He stands there until the water runs cold, barely drying off before stepping into the clothes she put out for him. He collapses onto the couch, a single tear breaking the surface as she sits beside him and strokes his back. The soft touch triggers his breakdown, and he's not sure how much time passes while he desperately clings to her and sobs, mumbling incoherent apologies into her ear, running his fingers through her hair. He begins to gently press his lips to her skin, once again using her as a means to deflect from his true emotions. Hesitant kisses turn passionate, and he needs more. Lips connect, clothes fly, limbs entangle. He drowns the hurt in her touch, convinces himself of the lie that this will make everything better.

Yet...

He finds that this time, the pain is the only truth he'll ever know.


End file.
